


phantom pain

by badAquatic



Series: Trailerstuck [74]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: (the abuse is not illustrated fyi), Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Depression, F/M, Illustrated, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Slut Shaming, past suicide attempts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 15:15:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3124925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a rainstorm outside. The roads are nearly washed out and the storm drains are backing up, but you don't care. Jane's awake and you’re determined to see her. </p><p>Takes place after 'lives built on sand' but before 'the hard truth of being free'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. rainy awakening

**== >Dirk: Go to the hospital **

By the time you leave the trailer, it’s a rainstorm outside. The roads are nearly washed out and the storm drains are backing up so all you have to guide you are your truck high beams and a memorized knowledge of the street layout. You don’t care though. Jane is awake and you’re determined to see her. There could be a hurricane outside and you’d still go see her.

Dave is still working so Jade and Karkat tag along. Karkat is withdrawn, lost within his own thoughts regarding the disappearance of his boss. When you get to Jane’s room Roxy and Rose are already there. Jane is propped up in bed with exhausted bags under her eyes. The stitched areas on her face are swollen from the healing process and there are other scars on her arms and face. _Battle_ _scars_ , you realize, given how she received them.

Jane sees you and smiles. “Hey, sandy.” Her voice is so small and hoarse.

It’s been years since she called you by that stupid nickname. You sit next to her and take her hand, which is still hooked with tubes feeding her painkillers. “Nice to see you too, blue eyes.”

“I’m sorry I can’t raise my voice. They had tube down my throat. They say the soreness goes away with time.” Jane continues.

“You don’t have to talk at all. We just wanted to make sure you were alright.” You say, “It’s not your fault. You didn’t wish for this.”

Your hand trembles slightly and you immediately withdraw it. It’s difficult seeing her in the hospital and you start counting your breaths just so that you don’t fall over while hyperventilating.  

“I’m just glad that everyone’s alright.” Jane looks around the room. “Where’s Johnny?”

Jade scowls. “He’s at a theatre thing. I think his cell is turned off.”

“I’m sure he’ll be here as soon as possible.” Rose says but the tone of her voice tells you she’s going to wring John’s neck if he doesn’t visit soon.

“It’s not a big deal.” Jane insists, “It’s not like I planned to wake up now and I’m so doped up I’ll be asleep by the time he gets here. Jake’s not here either.” She looks at you. “Is he alright?”

“Jake is still unconscious.” You say, “We don’t know when he’ll wake up.”

Jane frowns. “Oh, Dirk…”

You shake your head. “I’m fine. He wouldn’t want me to be gloomy about this.”

“There’s other things going on,” Roxy begins, “Jane, about your _trailer_ …”

After hearing the news Jane stares at her, then you, and is silent for several minutes.

“This is a joke right?” Jane asks, “My trailer’s… _gone_?”

“Now don’t panic!” Roxy insists, “John and the police already moved most of your things to evidence lockers and storage. The only thing that got sunk along with the trailer were the couches, beds, the appliances…”

That doesn’t assure Jane. “Where am I supposed to stay? My trailer is gone! I have to buy a new bed and and how did it even _sink_? Why do you know that?”

Roxy glares at Rose and Karkat, who don’t meet her eyes. They look so sheepish and guilty that you throw the kids a bone. You know Jane would flip her Orthodoxian shit if she found out they were holding a demonic ritual in her home.

“This bunch was out having fun when they heard a noise at your place.” you say, “They went to the trailer but there was no one inside. Then it started to sink. The workers say there’s a sinkhole.”

Jane pales at ‘sinkhole’. She looks to Roxy. “What are they going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Roxy admits, shoulders sagging, “So far the sinkhole hasn’t expanded but everyone’s afraid. The DD has kept quiet about what’s going on too. Insurance will only cover an evac if it’s life threatening but I don’t want to risk staying too long.”

Jane nods. “Yes. I remember what happened to the people on South Street that didn’t move quickly.”

“What happened?” Jade asks.

“You don’t remember, Jade? It wasn’t that long ago.” You say, “It was around the time Terezi lost her sight.”

“I don’t think I knew Terezi at that time…” Jade says.

Karkat frowns. “And even _I_ don’t remember that. I don’t even remember that Eldritch Night where I was dressed up as Gamblignant Moon.” He rolls his eyes. “Considering how badly I wanted that costume, you’d figure I would have remembered.”

“Well, you were very young.” you say. You’re glad for the minute control you have over your body language or you’d be sweating bullets.

Jane smiles. “I never celebrated Eldritch Night but I bet you looked very precious.”

Karkat doesn’t smile back. He looks squeamish and there are beads of sweat on his forehead. “Yeah. Maybe.” He shrugs. “Not a big deal. Kids forget things.”

This isn’t the time or place to talk about that Eldritch Night. “When people didn’t immediately evacuate South Street, two of the trailers collapsed and someone was crippled for life. The same could happen on Neiro.”

“Maybe you can move to Fordham or Kaiba?” Jade suggests, “A lot of people are relocating from our neighborhood since the shootout.”

“I don’t blame them.” Jane snorts.

While the rest of them talk, you step out to visit Jake. He’s unchanged though starting to grow a beard. You kiss him before returning to Jane. At eight Jade starts nodding off so you leave for home. Karkat and you make dinner and sit in the living room, watching TV and talking. Things are fine until you turn to the news, where you’re greeted with live footage of the police traipsing around the Wild Cesspool. Cult killings are suspect, bodies are uncovered, and every muscle in your neck and shoulder feels tense. Karkat’s first instinct is to call Terezi but it’s brief since you’re all focused on the report. You’re the first to turn the channel but no one wants to talk. It’s then Dave comes through the door smelling like coffee.

“Fuck!” he mutters, “It’s like the Maiden is pissing after binge drinking all night.” He looks at your sullen faces and frowns. “Shit, what happened? Please don’t tell me someone else died.”

“Uh,” Karkat begins, “not anyone you know. Maybe.”

“Some bodies were found in the Wild Cesspool.” you say.

“Those poor people…” Jade sighs.

“I wouldn’t call them poor _anything_ , Jade.” You say, “Only scum go there: poachers, smugglers, and people dumping bodies for the lusii to eat.”

Dave sits on the futon and starts taking off his rain boots. “What’s the ‘Wild Cesspool’? I’ve never heard about it.”

“It was before your time.” you say, “During the nineties, when they were still building the trailer park, Apexcom bought some property west of the park. They shoved everyone off the land and started digging but they hit something. No one’s sure what it was but the theory is that it was an undetonated Germanium warhead from the Great War that fell into the swamp. The radioactivity leaked into the swamp, mutating the lusii. Since then there area’s been fenced off. No one goes there unless they’re looking for trouble.”

“Our city sure has a colorful history.” Karkat grumbles.

“Nice to know we live within _walking distance_ of a known toxic area.” Jade grumbles.

Dave changes the subject and you’re secretly glad for it. You go upstairs and meditate but you still can’t forget the shriveled corpses. The swamp’s toxicity had eaten flesh but some ragged hunks of bone and hair remained. Evidence something had been alive but useless to test due to the swamp’s toxicity.  

Meditation doesn’t work for long. You clean the trailer until your iHusk vibrates. SlipperySleuth wants to meet up and you agree. You could use the distraction. You uncover your deerskin suitcase from your closet and check to see if all your supplies are there.

You leave the trailer at midnight. You don’t wear anything special: regular clothes but weighed down with a gun, several knives, and gloves. Your pockets are so full of metal and you’re constantly paranoid about them making too much noise. You arrive at the Railway, park in the back, and gain entry using homemade lock picks and years of experience. You enter the back hallways and stick to the wall because you know where all the cameras are. They may not be monitored but you’re not taking chances. When you find the miniscule camera holes, you slap plumber’s putty over it.

You walk over to the office door and open it slowly. You squat down because you know there’s another camera but you’re dubious about its location. You crawl around the dirty floor, trying to think where Meliak would put the camera. After scanning at eye level you find the pinhole at waist height right behind the desk. Grinning, you slap putty over it and go to work.

The desk has a ledger on it but you can tell from the entries that this it’s a dummy. You break into the locked drawers which yield more interesting results: ledgers that you suspect hold the true business of the Railway along with some other interesting papers. You pull the ledgers out but not because you’re going to take them. You need to see what could be hidden in the drawers. After some testing you find a false bottom in the bottom left drawer. You uncover the real ledger (which means the others are _also_ dummies), along with three envelopes. One of them is marked _Karcin_ and inside is a letter and several boondollar stacks.

You don’t read the letter out of respect.

The second envelope is marked _Dom_. There’s money and a letter, which you also don’t read.

The third envelope has your name on it and you go still. You really shouldn’t look. Your contact wants any evidence and tampering with it could be hazardous to your future relationship. You wrestle with the idea for several minutes before opening it. There’s a letter written in Trussian.

 

_Diedrich:_

_If you’re reading this, that means I’m dead and you’re rifling through my things because that’s why you joined the Trussians: to spy on us for your shadowy overseers. I don’t hold it against you. You’re just doing your job just like I was doing mine._

_I have no regrets about the way I lived or what I’ve done. My greatest wish has always been to die “with my boots on”, as we would say back in Luscov._

_My only request is that you tell Karcin about me when he is old enough and speak only truths. I do not want him to become like Meliak._

_Sergei_

 

You rip up the letter without a second thought. You stare at the paper shreds in your hands and curse your stupidity, putting them in your pocket. It could’ve meant something but now you’re destroyed it. You look in the envelope again but find no money; only legal documents. One of them is the deed to the Railway and another Sergei’s will. Sergei gave you the Railway along with instructions that his remaining money cache be divided between the safe house and Karcin’s future.

Just like Sawtooth and Squarewave, Sergei has left you behind for a brutal death they view as glorious. Just like you were all trained.

“Bastards.” You hiss in Trussian, “Every last one of them.”

You grind your teeth so you don’t cry. You focus on your work: gathering the envelopes and anything else of interest. You close the deerskin suitcase and got to the door, but you hear footsteps in the wall. You pull out your gun  but then you hear a raspy voice:

“I know you’re in there. If you’re a burglar just take what you want and get out.”

There’s no point in trying to sneak out as the office only has one door and no window. You keep your hand on your gun and open the door slowly. You expect a burly Trussian but instead you’re faced with a yellowblood holding an unmarked bottle. You take one look and know he’s a Jang War vet. Only they have facial keloid scars from toxic gas and faulty machinery provoking psionic burn-out. Judging by the dulled veins in his eyes, he can’t see you either.

The old yellowblood takes one hard look at you, then takes a swig from the bottle.  “You smell better than the usual burglars.”

“I’m not a limehead so yes.” you say, “You must be Dom.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Employees aren’t allowed down here when the bar is closed which means you have special privileges. From what I remember, there was only one other person that lived here with that privilege.”

“Like it fucking matters.” snorts Dom. He walks to the front of the bar and you follow, maintaining your distance in case he lashes out. “So, are you one of Sergei’s Trussian ‘friends’? Here to put a bullet in a burnt-out soldier’s skull, or burn down the place for the insurance?”

“Neither.” You say.

“Neither?” The yellowblood makes a sound of surprise and sits in a chair. He must be arthritic all over with how slowly he moves. “Shame. Now’s the time for a power grab.”

“I’ve no interest in that. I’m here to take care of Sergei’s affairs.”

Dom snorts. “What’s the point? He’s gone.” He takes another sip, muttering into the bottle. “What’s the point of _any_ of this fuckery?”

“This isn’t the time to be suicidal.” You know Sergei definitely wouldn’t want that.

That gets a dry, bitter laugh. “ _Fuck_ suicide. I’ve tried so many times my arms _look_ like a fucking railroad! The gods keep bringing me back just to piss on me. So I let ‘em. I got yellow in me anyway.” He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. Without Trussian protection, this place will go belly-up and if another Trussian takes it, they’ll clean house and not give a shit about us rejects.”

“The Railway won’t disappear.”

You leave the Railway the same way you arrived. There’s no one to stop you. You get in the car and drive as fast as you can from the bar. Downtown you find street parking and a 24-hour chicken and waffle diner. The customers are the usual dreck you find hanging out past midnight and needing food. Investigator Quan is sitting in the back, nursing coffee and watching cars drive by. You walk over.

Quan sips his coffee, staring at you. He’s always scanning you for some sign of weakness. You’re thankful for the shades. “Evening, Strider.”

“Evening.” You say, neutrally.

Quan stirs his coffee. “See anything interesting on the news?”

You sit across from him. “Nothing that you wouldn’t already know about.”

Quan doesn’t engage you further. People shuffle in and out of the diner, ignoring you. Ten minutes later you’re the only customers in the diner and a black carapace janitor comes out of the back. He’s skinny and has an eye patch.

“Evenin’.” He says, “Let’s take it in the back.”

The carapace leads Quan and you to a door in the back marked _Employees Only._ All three of you sit at a table. Quan’s still glaring at you and the carapace’s eyes on your suitcase.

“Let’s get introductions out of the way.” Quan says, “I know _you_ ”—he glares at you, then at the carapace—“but not _you._ ”

“Ditto. Thought I was meetin’ with Swan.” says the black carapace.

“Swan needs to keep his hands clean. I do all the necessary dirty work in the NJPD.” Quan says without hesitation, “Now who are you?”

The carapace reaches inside his jacket and shows Quan his badge. “The name’s Spades Slick and I outrank you so can the attitude. If you got an issue with it, take it up with your congressman.”

“I would if they weren’t a corrupt fuck.” Quan answers bitterly.

“Moving on.” You put the suitcase on the table. You look at Quan, “Those bodies your officers found in the swamp are most likely Sergei and Meliak Vantas, who have been reported missing earlier today. Odds are that they died during a gang conflict as the Wild Cesspool is where the Trussian- and Czeching-speaking mafia dump their bodies. I don’t know why they were there as most of the organized crime groups have gone quiet.”

 

 

“I got no clue either.” Slick says, “The Brotherhood is lyin’ low. Everyone is spooked by Papa Lobster gettin’ done in and nobody claimin’ to do it. No one knows what the remainin’ Trussian cells or what their contacts will do.” He looks at the briefcase. “Anythin’ useful in there, blondie?”

“Financial ledgers both legitimate and falsified along with information for Sergei’s next of kin.” You manage to say without sounding too choked up, “Money has been put aside for Sergei’s son and matesprit. My suggestion is that the legal documents be taken and the money given to the rightful owners.”

“As far as we’re concerned, _all_ that money is dirty.” Quan says, “It should be locked up until the Trussian heads are in court.”

“Like anythin’s safe in them lockers.” Slick says, “Listen, Quan, you got the ledgers and other documents. Quads and relatives don’t have anythin’ to do with this. One of ‘em’s a _grub_ fer godssake.”

“It’s not ideal to give relatives a reason to hate authority.” You say. Quan grunts and leans back; his nonverbal way of agreeing. “In his will, Sergei gave me legal ownership of his bar, the Railway. I have no desire to maintain it.” You look between Quan and Slick. “ _Someone_ must taken it.”

Quan looks at Slick. “Not a good idea to have Brotherhood in Little Trussia. There’ll be fights every day.”

“It’s not a viable option. Most of the employees were the Brotherhood’s victims.” you add, “The Railway is a Trussian front but it keeps those trolls off the street. They would be a great help to us if we could establish trust, being our eyes and ears in the Squalor.”

“Sounds ideal but who’s going to take it?” Quan asks, “I’m a cop not a businessman. It’d look suspicious if I started buying ex-gangster property.”

Slicks toys with his fingers. Carapace fingers have always been interesting to you; iridescent and hard like a scarab back. Every flexing digit gives a faint insectlike _click._

“I’ll look for an owner within my group,” He says, “but it’s going to take time. I’ll have a candidate by Winter Holiday Day.”

You frown. “Winter Holiday? That’s a month away.” 

Slicks shrugs. “That’s my offer.”

“It’s the only one we have.” Quan says (who is surely enjoying your discomfort).

“Fine.” you agree.

You split up the briefcase contents. You take the envelopes, Quan takes the falsified ledgers and Slicks takes the real ones along with all the other papers in the deerskin suitcase. You all leave, not bothering with goodbyes.

It’s incredibly late/early when you arrive home. Everyone is asleep, including the pets. You crawl into bed, bone tired.

As sleep begins to take you, you ponder Sergei’s words or rather, you ponder the last line. “ _I do not want him to become like Meliak.”_ What could that mean if Sergei had no regrets? Did he want Karcin to have a normal life or to just not become an unfeeling psychopath? Or did Sergei realize long ago the evil he had done and realized that he couldn’t change, but wanted better for his child?

You’re not innocent either. Raising Dave and loving Jake does not negate the innocent people you’ve murdered and the darkness that still dwells inside you. Will someone crawl out of the shadows and kill you for past evils? It’s a silly, paranoid thought but it erases your drowsiness. You lay in bed motionless and stare at the ceiling, pondering what could have been.


	2. late night interruption

**== >Dirk: Be Karkat an hour later**

You’re struggling to swim through the muck. You’re exhausted and there’s no land in sight. This is it. You’re going to drown. You’ve spent the last of your energy on a hope that wasn’t there. You start to sink, choking on the black water. Everything darkens and there are murmurs followed by a sharp pain in your skull.

You wake up trembling. You miss the visions of your grandfather’s unpleasant past instead of these constant ominous warnings. A growing migraine throbs under your horns. You sit up in bed, rubbing your face in preparation of another shitty morning. Jade is snoring but Dave isn’t. You hear him in the living room having a muffled argument. It’s John and Dave trying to keep calm as they bicker. The argument steadily gets louder until Dave huffs “ _Fine_!”. Then there’s the sound of packing and the door slamming. It’s then you come out of the bedroom. Dave is sitting on the futon rubbing his face.

“What happened?” you ask.

“John’s going to be staying with Rose.” Dave grumbles.

You sit next to him. “Does this have something to do with his late nights out?”

Dave frowns. “Karkat…John’s my best friend. He was my friend back when people thought I was the retarded mutant and not a cool kid-”

You pat him on the shoulder. “Hey, man, I understand. I don’t talk about private moiraillegiance stuff with Terezi.”

“John and I aren’t moirails.”

“I know, but friendship and moiraillegiance walk a similar line.” You rest your chin on his shoulder, making sure to put your weight on him because you know how much he hates it.

Dave slumps back, glaring up at you. “I miss being able to easily throw you off. Now you’re three times the size you were. It’s like having a housecat suddenly transform into a cougar.”

You grin. “That’s what makes adult molt so fun though. You never know what you’re going to get.”

“Thankfully it’s not all bad.” Dave’s hand slides under your shirt and his fingers caress your heftsacks. You shudder, inhaling slowly. “Are these getting… _bigger_?”

“You wish.” You snort.

“I wonder if they get bigger the closer you get to your heat cycle.” Dave snickers, “Maybe they get ridiculously huge and you can knock them together like clackers to attract mates. Or maybe you can use them to hypnotize potential mates?” He finally locates your nipples and squeezes them. You pant, clenching your teeth. “Maybe I should--”

“Try to ‘clack’ my heftsacks and I will break _both_ your hands.”  

“So much for my science experiment.” Dave withdraws his hand and starts lifting your shirt off.

“Is trying to ‘clack’ my heftsacks one of those weird fetishes like with Jade and her ‘tails’?”

Dave rolls his eyes. “Don’t get me _started_ on the tails. Who knew she had such a… _collection_.”

“Have you gotten acquainted with them?” you snicker and take off your shirt. Now you’re just in your boxers and feeling your bulge withdraw and rub against the inside of your boxers.  

“None of your business.” Dave says, kissing you from the collarbone down to nipple. You shudder, digging your nails into his shoulder. “These, however, _are_ my business. Well, until I have to share them with your flushpal.”  

You shake your head. You have to focus on your words because Strider’s distracting fingers. “I’m not— _hnn_ \--doing flush for a while. I need a drama break.”

Dave gasps. “Karkat Vantas is closing up the bang shop? I’m sure trolls of all hemotypes are weeping.” He nips the near underside of your heftsack, grinning. “I have to admit that I’m a little disappointed you didn’t pick out a designer bra.”

You nip his ear, purring. “Why would I be wearing Victoria Secret—ow, _Jegus_ , those teeth--while sleeping in _bed_? This isn’t a porno.”

“You can’t blame a guy for wishing.”

“I definitely caaaan— _fuck_!” You knot your fingers in his hair, feeling his hot tongue press against you. Your bulge writhes out of your boxers, rubbing against his leg. You spread them apart, straddling him, “Fuck me. C’mon. Just fuck me already.”  

Dave laughs. “Karkat, I did an eight hour shift. I’m _way_ too tired to fuck.”

“That’s not fair!” you whine “I’m all riled up and we don’t have to worry about Egbert walking in on us!”

“Something tells me even if John was in the room you wouldn’t stop trying to grind on me. I think you have fucking on the brain because you’re going into heat.” He smirks. “I better keep you inside so you don’t attract every tomcat in the neighborhood with your constant horny yowling.”

You growl and bite the outer shell of his ear. He leaves for the bedroom but you jerk off on the futon. It’s still not enough so you concentrate on sleeping instead of the warm feeling in your nook. You fall asleep and there’s darkness for what feels like hours before you open your eyes. You’re standing in the dark woods, with no identifiable foliage or trees. Under you is a mountain of wet bones. A thousand or more disjointed limbs and pieces to bodies long since decayed.

A blinding pain in your temple wakes you up.

You wake up to Dave sitting on the futon. Dirk is in a chair drinking coffee. When he sees you waken up, he smirks. “Looks like the caterpillar’s woken up.”

“I need aspirin…” you whimper. You must sound incredibly pathetic because Dave immediately retrieves it for you with water. “Karkat, I think you should go to a doctor. These constant headaches can’t be good.”

“I bet it’s from an unhealthy diet.” Jade says from the kitchen.

“Or stress.” Dirk says.

“I’m not wasting the time and money to visit a doctor who’ll say those exact things.” you grunt.

“There’s easy ways to fix an unhealthy diet.” Jade says, walking in with plates.

“And yet there’s no way to fix you not resting enough.” Dave sighs.

“I rested all week. Now I’m _incredibly_ bored.” Jade says, passing plates around. You’re not excited for breakfast because you know it’s from Jade’s gross healthy recipe book but you accept the meal.

“Jade, what are you doing about the kid?” Dirk asks.

Jade blinks. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Jake’s not around to be awkward so I’m going to ask on his behalf what your plans are.” Dirk says, “It’s his grandchild after all.”

“What is the Strider baby even going to _call_ you, Dirk?” you ask, “Uncle? Grandpa? Mr. Grandpa? Grandpa’s husband? Uncle Grandpa? Grandpa Uncle?”

“ _Grunkle_.” Dave snickers.

“Definitely not _that_.” Dirk says, glaring at Dave.

“Is it because ‘grunkle’ sounds awful or because it makes you realize that you’ll be _fifty_ when she’s _ten_?” Dave asks.

“ _No_.” Dirk says, looking more irritated.

“ _Yes_.” Dave laughs.

“ _Anyways_ ,” Dirk says, “have you picked a birth plan? Hopefully one that isn’t nerve-wracking like a home birth. I say this because I think it would be a bad idea given who the father is.”

“Seconded. I would be zero help during a home birth.” Dave says.

“And I would just be in the corner screaming.” You say.

Jade frowns. “Why in the hell would I do a home birth? I’m a woman of science and reality. A C-Section is the best option since my insurance won’t even cover home or even natural births.”

“Your insurance doesn’t cover natural birth?” you ask, “That’s totally weird. Why would it cover natural and home laying for trolls but not humans?”

“Because laying eggs and having a baby are _two_ _different_ _things_ …?” Dave says, “Karkat, did you even pay attention during sex ed?”

“No, because I don’t have any plans to lay any eggs or have any baby humans fall out of me.” You say, finally eating your eggs. “These eggs taste weird.”

“There’s oatmeal in them.” Jade says.

“Why?” you groan, “ _Why_ would you violate my scrambled eggs with fucking _oatmeal_ , Harley?”

“There’s almonds and flaxseed in the salsa too, which raises even more questions.” Dave grumbles.

“It’s better for you! Do you want to die of a heart attack when our kids are in middle school?” Jade asks, “Or be in one of those rascal scooters at their graduation? ‘Sorry I couldn’t stay for your graduation ceremony, sweetie. I had to unstick your father from the chair he was in because of his profuse sweating.’”

“How heavy am I that I got _stuck_ in the chair?” Dave asks, sounding offended.

“Four hundred pounds, which is what you’ll be in thirty years if you keep eating like an insane clown.” Jade says.

Dave grumbles and glares at his eggs. “Can we have a prenup that says I’m allowed to divorce you if you keep trying to make me eat like a goat?”

“You’re not married.” Dirk reminds him.

“Eating healthy shouldn’t be viewed as a detriment, Dave!” Jade huffs.

The argument continues but you zone out. You question the last time you were concupiscently intimate with another troll; the last time you let a troll hold you and put their bulge inside of you. You think of Vriska with her knowing smirks but after she was pregnant you didn’t get far. You weren’t in the right mood to be with another troll after you were abducted either.

Which means the last troll you had sex with was…

Your appetite immediately shrivels when you realized being attacked was the last time you were with another troll. You leave the room abruptly to put away the rest of your meal and go lay down in the bedroom. There’s no point in going to work because the Railway is essentially defunct. Who are you kidding by going?

You spend the entire Sunday laying down and contemplating what you’ll do next romance wise but no solution comes to you. Only a sad reality that you thought you had passed still has its hooks in you. You’re not in the most social mood which is impossible to deal with in such a small trailer. You shuffle back and forth between the living room and bedroom just avoiding people and conversation. Everyone tries to talk to you at least once but eventually they get the message that you want your space and you’re alone for a while.

Late Sunday night you lay on the futon. Nothing can distract you from your thoughts though. Eventually you work up the courage to message your moirail.

 

\--carcinoGeneticist[CG] began trolling gallowsCalibrator[GC]!--

 

CG: ARE YOU THERE?

GC: Y34H

CG: DO YOU THINK I’M A SLUT?

GC: …WH4T?

CG: DO YOU THINK I’M A SLUT BECAUSE I HAD SEX OUT OF QUADRANTS AND SHIT FELL APART ON ME? EVERYONE ALREADY MAKES FUN OF ME AND SAYS I CAN’T CONTROL MYSELF AND I ALWAYS GET IRRITATED AND SAY IT’S NOT TRUE BUT…

CG: WHAT IF IT IS?

CG: I DID A LOT OF DEGRADING THINGS FOR MONEY LIKE ANY REGULAR WHORE AND EVEN THOUGH I SAID IT WAS FOR MY KIDS, MAYBE I WAS JUST BEING WHAT I REALLY WAS.

CG: MAYBE THAT’S WHY I WAS TARGETED SO EASILY.

CG: MAYBE WHAT HAPPENED AT THE MANOR WAS GOING TO HAPPEN NO MATTER WHAT I DID BECAUSE I'M A WHORE WITH NO OTHER USES THAN TO BE SOMEONE'S BULGEWARMER.

GC: OH GODS K4RK4T! NO!

GC: B31NG 4BDUCT3D W4SN’T YOUR F4ULT! YOU W3R3 PUSH3D 1NTO 4 B4D S1TU4T1ON BY B4D P3OPL3!

CG: WHAT DOES IT MATTER, TEREZI?

CG: EVERYONE HAS ALWAYS REFERRED TO ME AS THE NEIGHBORHOOD SLUT AND FAILURE. I'M THE PUNCHLINE TO EVERY JOKE THAT YOU COULD STICK TROLL MADONNA IN. EVERYONE ASSUMES I’M GOING TO FUCK PETROS JUST BECAUSE HE’S ATTRACTIVE.

CG: I'VE ALWAYS BEEN REFERRED TO AS THE NEIGHBORHOOD BICYCLE EVEN IF I WASN’T.

GC: SH1T OK4Y K4RK4T

GC: 1’M R34L1Z1NG TH4T W3 4LW4YS T34S3D YOU WH3N W3 W3R3 K1DS BUT G1V3N WH4T H4PP3N3D TO YOU 1T W4S 4CTU4LLY R34LLY SH1TTY OF US TO K33P DO1NG TH4T G1V3N WH4T H4PP3N3D TO YOU

CG: IT WAS SHITTY OF ME NOT TO SAY ANYTHING. I THINK I DIDN’T MENTION IT BECAUSE I LIKED ALL OF US BEING FRIENDS. IT WAS LIKE BEFORE I WAS…ABDUCTED.

CG: I DIDN'T WANT IT TO BOTHER ME BUT IT DOES. I'VE JUST BEEN TRYING TO IGNORE IT LIKE I DO WITH EVERYTHING THAT MAKES ME UNCOMFORTABLE.

GC: GODS 1 F33L L1K3 4N 4SSHOL3 FOR NOT PUTT1NG 1T TOG3TH3R NOT 3V3N K4NKR1 S41D 4NYTH1NG

CG: I THINK I’M DONE.

GC: DON3?

CG: WITH RED RELATIONSHIPS. I JUST DON’T FEEL COMFORTABLE WITH IT ANYMORE. I HAVE TOO MUCH EMOTIONAL BAGGAGE WITH THE PEOPLE I KNOW AND I’M NOT EVEN SURE IF I CAN HAVE SEX WITH A TROLL AGAIN.

CG: THE LAST TIME I DID, I WAS BEING RAPED. IT’S HARD NOT TO THINK ABOUT THAT. IT'S HARD NOT TO THINK ABOUT BEING AFRAID OF YOUR OWN KIND. IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE.

CG: NOTHING MAKES SENSE TO ME NOW. I FEEL LIKE A DIFFERENT PERSON, LIKE THE OLD KARKAT'S BEING DEVOURED BY SOMETHING.

CG: SOMETHING ELSE.

CG: SOMETHING THAT ISN'T ME.

GC: K4RK4T M4YB3 YOU SHOULD T4LK TO K4NKR1 4BOUT TH1S TH1S 1S R34LLY TH3 SORT OF TH1NG H3 H4S 3XP3R13NC3 W1TH

CG: NO. I JUST...

CG: I'M SORRY IF I'M COMING OFF CRAZY OR ALARMING BUT I THINK I'M JUST...

CG: I'M SO TIRED, TEREZI.

CG: I HAVEN'T BEEN SLEEPING WELL AT ALL. I KEEP GETTING THESE HEADACHES AND THEN I KEEPING HAVING THE DREAMS...

GC: DR34MS OF YOUR GR4NDF4TH3R?

CG: NO. SOMETHING MUCH WORSE. THERE’S SOMETHING MY MIND DOESN’T WANT ME TO SEE. IT WAS BLOCKING IT BUT NOW IT’S COMING.

CG: THE BARRIER IS COMING DOWN.

CG: ONE DAY, I’M GOING TO SEE IT AND I DON’T KNOW HOW I’LL BE AFTERWARDS.

CG: MAYBE IT’LL FINALLY DRIVE ME INSANE OR I’VE BEEN INSANE THIS WHOLE TIME AND I'M JUST GOING THROUGH THE MOTIONS BEFORE I'M COMMITTED.

GC: K4RK4T YOU’R3 NOT 1NS4N3 YOU’R3 JUST GO1NG THROUGH 4 D1FF1CULT T1M3 BUT YOU’R3 GO1NG TO B3 F1N3 YOU’R3 STRONG3R TH4N YOU R34L1Z3

CG: WILL BEING STRONG MAKE ME HAPPY?

GC: 1 DON’T KNOW K4RK4T

GC: YOU H4V3 TO D3C1D3 TH4T FOR YOURS3LF

CG: OKAY.

 

\--carcinoGeneticist[CG] ceased trolling gallowsCalibrator[GC]!--

 

You lay on the futon and feel a familiar ache in your abdomen. The change settles over with sudden and invasive acknowledgement. For a minute it’s hard to breathe but you regain control. Your waist is cramping but you ignore the pain, rolling off the futon and hobbling toward the bedroom. Jade and Dave are (thankfully) still asleep. In the darkness you locate the dresser and pull out the masker and pills from your drawer. You pop an ibuprofen for the cramping, which’ll subside in a few hours.

You fit the masker in the bathroom, following the instructions in the packet. It fits snugly around your neck but it’s a grim reminder of wearing the sordid jewelry in that hidden harem. The masker is at least not easily noticed. Once it’s on, it oxidizes the air; breaking apart the pheromone molecule so only a skilled bloodhound could pick them up now.

You feel very cold and tired.

Your heat cycle has begun and you don’t give a fuck.


	3. look elsewhere

The first day of your heat cycle isn’t so difficult because you’re prepared. You have a masker to keep your scent nearly invisible. You have pills to tamper down on your arousal though it does nothing to ease the migraine constantly pounding under your horns. You’re determined to go to school though so you stand in the bathroom and brush your unruly hair. Dave stands in the doorway waiting for his turn with the mirror.

 “You think it’s a good idea for you to go to school?” Dave asks, eying your masker.

“Why would you _say_ that?” you ask, in no mood to banter but indulging him anyways.

“Because that thing looks like it could break easy. Are you sure you got a name brand?”

“Are you so worried that it’s going to break and I’m going to hump the shit out of someone?” You growl, “Do you think I’m a fucking animal that needs to be a leash because I can’t control myself?”

Dave realizes he’s touched a nerve because he leaves you alone for the rest of the day. You don’t feel bad about snapping. You go to school but you’re completely out of place. After the shootout, everything seems so trivial and circumscribed, focused on the narrow goals of school status and gossip. It’s hard to care about when not just three weeks ago your friends and family were under attack and your home had become a suburban warzone.  

You must look like the pissed troll in the world because _no_ _one_ goes near you. Even the coldbloods who flirt with anything breathing avoid eye contact. The masker is doing part of the job but you think the frustrating migraine is definitely helping you avoid attention. At lunch your left side tingles but you ignore it. You attempt to take notes during class but the migraine makes the words a dull murmur and reading is painful.

Monday is a long stretch of pain with small intervals of less pain. At home you go immediately to bed but another nightmare startles you awake. This time you can’t even recall what you saw but you can taste blood and smell fire and toxic water. Only sensation but no imagery to accompany and distinguish it, or imagery that your mind wants to accept. You refuse to go back to sleep after that.

Dave wakes up early enough to see you lying on the futon wrapped up in a blanket.

“Hey.” He says and your answer is an frosty grunt. “I’ll assume that means you still have a migraine.” He sits next to you. “Karkat, why didn’t you tell me you were uncomfortable with sex jokes? I wouldn’t have said anything.”

Your stomach squirms. Did he figure it out on his own or did Terezi tell him? You roll up tighter in your blankets, admitting in a mumble, “…didn’t realize it bothered me until I thought about it. There’s…a lot I didn’t want to think about.”

“We’ve all had a shitty year.” Dave’s hands are in your hair, gently scratching the base of your horns. You purr and lean into the touch, letting it soothe your headache. “I can’t wait until it’s over next month.”

“Couldn’t agree more…” you murmur.

You’re too nauseous for breakfast so you don’t bother. You try meditating (which you read was a good method to alleviate heat cycles frustration) but it doesn’t go smoothly. Your mind cracks and pops with intruding thoughts: fire, screams in the night, gargling cold water as you’re pulled into liquid darkness.

You give up on meditating after five minutes of staring at the war-torn state of your mindscape.

School is at least tolerable. You try to pay attention to the lectures since winter exams are next month. Ninth Ward students aren’t getting a Gobblebeast Day vacation so you can catch up so that’ll help. Things are fine until History, when you left leg and arm start tingling…and then go completely numb.  

You raise your right hand but blinding pain from your left side interrupts all semblances of rational thought. You start flipping the fuck out and try to get out of your desk, but you fall over on the ground. You want to scream but all you do is twitch and feel the blinding pain overtake you. You’re paralyzed by your pain. Thankfully, things go black.

You wake up in the nurse’s office. You’re shaking like a leaf despite burning up. You sit up, nearly scaring the piss out of Aranea and Dave.

“ _Jegus_ , Karkat!” Dave breathes, “You scared the shit of us!”

The nurse holds the phone, looking uneasy. “Should I still call the EMTs?”

“Hold off on it.” Aranea says. She looks at you, “Karkat, what happened? You fell over and started twitching. We all thought you were having a seizure.”

“I-I”—your teeth are chattering—“j-just my arm and leg…”

“Your arm and leg are _fine_ , Karkat.” Dave says.

Your left arm and leg are perfectly fine though. The muscles are sore but there’s no blood or tearing. Your headache’s returned in full force though.

“If we’re not going to call the EMTs you should go home for the day,” the nurse says, “ _and_ see a doctor about what’s going on.”

You gripe about having to see a doctor but Dave threatens to throw you at the next person that looks like a doctor, so you concede. No one trusts you to take the bus so Dirk has to come pick you up like a little kid. It’s the most embarrassing thing in the world. Dirk’s at least courteous enough to take you to the clinic which (thankfully) isn’t crowded. The nurse does the usual blood pressure and temperature and consults with the PA, who studies your eyes, asks increasingly personal questions, and finally concludes:

“You’re experiencing sensory overstimulation I’ve never seen before in your hemotype. Are you sure you don’t have yellow or rustblood in your lineage?”

You shake your head. “I’m a double mutant.” Of course you didn’t tell her that your father is also your grandfather because that’s a whole different can of worms.

The PA shakes her head. “I can’t think of anything that would work for you honestly. All the overstimulation medication is meant for psionics. There’s no telling what effect it would have on your hemotype. It could make your symptoms worse.”

“What about sopor or a soporific tea?”

“That might work but you would take a high dose.”

The PA doesn’t recommend anything besides rest and sopor pills. You leave the clinic in an even shittier mood with a note about over-the-counter sopor brands. 

“So what exactly happened in class?” Dirk asks in the car, “Dave told me that you passed out and were freaking out about your arm and leg.”

“I thought they were being cut up.” You look at your unchanged forearm, “It felt so real...”

Dirk frowns. “Karkat, I think it’s time to say goodbye to your grandfather’s memories and take psionic depressants. You can get them over the counter too.”

You look at him for a long time but don’t know what to say.

“Karkat, your brain may not be structured to accept two very different sets of memories.” Dirk says, “Your brain may only have space for you.”

“The PA said that psionic depressants might hurt me.”

“Did you tell them about your memories and your grandfather being your father?”

You frown. “But…will it really help?”

“I have a more pertinent question: will it hurt to try?”

“I guess not.” You sigh.

You get psionic depressant pills from Walgreens, which are just high dose sopor pills with a higher mark-up. You can’t take the pills until bedtime so you have to preoccupy yourself. You try to think about what you’re going to do for your senior final essay but you can’t think of a topic you like. You thought about doing something related to romcoms but couldn’t find a way to tie it into English and History. You considered quadrants but the idea made you more irritable and sad. At ten you take your sopor pills and you’re knocked out by ten thirty.

You don’t dream of burning and drowning. You are in the darkness, walking steadily along a sidewalk as the trees and trailers tower over you. You move off the sidewalk and down a grassy path, into the swampy woodland. You’re scared about this turning into the drowning dream but the water is too shallow and muddy for that. A twig snaps behind you and you turn.

The skull mask leers at you. The obscene mask with its fiery red mane and cold brackish breath is at equal height with your eyes. It clutches your Gamblignant Moon wand—a lead pipe with ribbon and laced glued on it.

“You found it!” You’re so happy. Your voice is so small, young, and innocent.

The skull mask slowly nods and raises the pipe. It cracks against your temple and pain explodes along your skull. You scream before you’re delivered with another frenzied beating. You struggle to get away but it grabs you and the monster’s grip is like iron. It lands blow after blow and tosses you in the mud. You choke as blood runs into your eyes. The monster looks down at you, cold air coming from under its mask.

You wake up gasping for air. You’ve fallen off the bed but Dave and Jade haven’t woken up. Light is coming through the window, tinting the room blue. You find the color nauseating. You leave the trailer and inhale the cold winter air, trying to clear your head. You’re shuddering and not just from the cold. You feel like crying. You don’t know why but you want to cry and scream. You fight the urge but it’s a losing battle.

You end up cursing your own weakness. “Fuck.” you say, “Fucking… _shitty fuck!_ ”

“…Karkat?”

You look up and see Dirk looking down at you from the stairs. You can’t read his expression with the shades but you bet your right arm there’s pity in his eyes. Now you absolutely _refuse_ to cry; emotional stress or not.

“What?” you growl, “What _is_ it?”

“Any particular reason you’re acting like it’s alright to be outside without a jacket on in November?” Dirk asks.

“I don’t fucking know!” you say, irritated with him and your body.

“Maybe you should come inside...?” Dirk calmly suggests.

You ascend the stairs, glowering at the older Strider. You hate how he’s become your caretaker in this situation. It shows what a failure of a troll you are.

“You look like you had another ‘attack’.” Dirk says.

“Don’t call it that.” you snarl, “An attack means that someone went after me. This is _my brain_ fucking turning against me! I took the pills but I keep seeing shit! And standing there like a robot is _not_ fucking helping either! I liked you better when you were moping and miserable and not hanging out with Mega-Rufioh the Ever Sarcastic with his stupid emoticons! _Fuck him and fuck you!_ ”

The insult bounces off of Dirk. “How did you know the emoticons?” He frowns. “Have you been talking to Petros online?”

“I have _no_ _interest_ in talking to him!” you growl, flopping on the couch. “He’s not my grandfather, uncle and he’s _definitely_ not my friend, so why in the fuck would I bother with him? Fuck him. I know everyone thinks I’m fucking obsessed with him but I’m”—and that’s when the sharp pain in the center of your skull intensifies—“ _Ow_! For fuck’s sake you fucking _brain_ I would come in there and punch you if I could! _Ow! Shit!_ ”

“Karkat, don’t focus on the pain.” Dirk says, still keeping his distance. “Tell me what you saw.”

You growl but you push through the pain. You need to keep talking or you’ll blackout out again. “I saw…” Pain stabs the top of your skull again. “I saw the mask again.”

“The mask?”

“About a month ago, Kankri showed me this picture from Eldritch Night when I was a kid and I was with this…this _thing_. It had this mask that looked…evil.  Seeing it terrified me but I didn’t know why until tonight.” You take a deep breath. “They attacked me on Eldritch Night. I just remembered it...”

“The Minotaur.” Dirk mutters.

“The what?” You frown. “Wait, you _know_ what that thing is?”

Dirk inhales slowly, pulls up a chair, and sits across from you. “Yeah, I know what it was. We just didn’t expect you to remember.”

You stare at him. “What are you talking about?”

“We—that is the other adults and me—thought that if your memory hadn’t been jogged by now, it wasn’t going to happen.” Dirk continues, “You see that Eldritch Night we tried something different. We grouped you kids together because some of you didn’t have escorts. Kankri was in a particularly bad downswing, your grandfather was out of town, Cronus had to work overtime, and so you got put in a group. There were a lot of you so we lost track of some of you kids during trick or treating.” He shrugs. “It happens but at the end of the night, three kids were still missing: you, Eridan, and Gamzee.”

“Gamzee?” You growl, “Why the fuck was Gamzee with us?”

“ _Karkat_ ,” Dirk says, “Gamzee is Meenah’s son. He lived with her and Feferi. I’ll admit he was a strange kid but he had been in Leder long enough to have his spirit trampled into the ground. He rarely spoke to anyone, or as far as I knew. He was prone to the occasional tantrum but we never thought he would attack you.”

“Attack me?” You feel the pain in your skull again; the ghost of an injury rattling your brain. “It…it was him. It was Gamzee in that fucking costume, wasn’t it?”

Dirk nods. “The Minotaur is a children’s game from Leder. Only someone from there would dress like them.”

“Why in the fuck did he attack me?” Your head still hurts but now you’re livid off on top of it.

Dirk shakes his head. “We don’t know _exactly_ what happened. Eridan was the one that found you…afterward. It was…” He swallows. “It was awful. There was so much blood and there was Gamzee with the bloody pipe chasing after Eridan. The doctors weren’t sure if you were going to wake up or what condition your mind would be in. Why do you think your grandfather stopped speaking and seeing Kankri entirely? That…incident…was the straw that broke their weak connection.”

 

 

You still can’t remember being in the hospital but you can easily recall the pain and the fear of the attack. Did your mind recognize the danger Gamzee posed before you did? Is this why Gamzee threatened Eridan months ago?

“Why…” You clench your teeth. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me this?”

“We tried to tell you as a child but you would just forget later or have a migraine. The doctors had a theory that your mind was purposely blocking a very traumatic memory. We didn’t push it too much because Gamzee had been arrested and sent away.” Dirk sighs, “No expected him to be released from prison. We thought he’d attack you right away but he didn’t.”

You have one question: “What does Meenah think?”

“ _Karkat_ \--”

“Tell me!” you snap.

“Karkat, you don’t want to go down this road. Gamzee’s her son and she went through a _lot_ of shit with him during Leder.”

You know what that means. “She thinks he’s didn’t do it.” You have to push yourself off the couch because your legs are trembling.  “She thinks he’s _innocent_! She thinks that he’s the fucking Dalai Lama and it was an ‘accident’ I bet! _I can’t believe this bullshit!_ ”

Dirk moves like a blonde blur and blocks the door before you can get within an inch of it. “Karkat, whatever issue you have with Meenah can be solved later. Going to her right now is a bad idea. You’re amped up on hormones and that’s making you more aggressive.”

“I’m perfectly fucking calm so _fuck you_!” There’s another sharp pain in your skull and this time it makes you yelp, “ _Fuck you, brain! Fuck you!_ ”

“You’re in pain because you’re _still_ over-stimulated.” Dirk sighs, voice edging from concern into annoyance, “Either calm down on your own or I put you in a sleeper hold.”

“I’m calling bullshit on you knowing how to do that!” you snarl, showing him your fangs, “You either let me through _that door_ or I’ll _throw_ you--”

Dirk grabs your arm and waist, throwing you to the ground. Your mind registers what’s going on a second too late before his arm wraps around your neck. You try to claw and bite your way out of his grip but his hand grips the back of your neck. You curse a loud and angry streak but things start to blur. Your limbs go limp and the darkness finally takes you.

You don’t dream. Its pleasant.

When you wake up, you’re lying face down on the couch. Your limbs are still aching and your clothes are sticky with sweat. People are talking around you.

“—don’t think it’s a good idea for you to use the sleeper hold on my hate-boyfriend.” Dave says.

“Well I couldn’t let Karkat go on an angry rampage at Meenah’s place.” Dirk says, “I already had to tell Petros to keep away because of how he’s acting.”

“You have to teach me how to do that, by the way.” Terezi says.

“It’s very simple but you have to be careful. You can accidentally suffocate someone or give them brain damage.” Dirk says.

With a lot of effort on your part you manage to roll onto your side so you can look at the others. Dirk, Terezi, and Dave are standing in the middle of the room talking.  

“Why do I feel like I weigh three hundred pounds?” you grunt.

Terezi’s the first to notice you’re awake. She snickers, “Well…”

“I’m not three hundred pounds, you ass!” you growl.

“I may have applied a little acupressure while you were knocked out.” Dirk says, “It’s supposed to relax you.”

“I feel even more pissed off! _Especially_ at you, Dirk!” you inform him.

“Dirk called me and told me about your flip out.” Terezi says, sitting next to you, “Dirk said you’re taking psionic suppressants.”

“Yeah, for the fat lot of good it did me.” You grunt.

“Maybe your psionics or whatever are stronger than we thought?” Dave suggests.

“If that’s true it may take a while before it takes effect.” Dirk considers.

You sag into the couch. “How much longer?”

“Who knows?” Dirk asks, “Feferi’s had seizures for a while and it’s still taking her time to get over them. Who knows with you and your double mutantblood heritage?”

“I think you should stay home for the day instead of scaring the piss out of everyone again.” Terezi says.

You try to argue differently but everyone’s against you leaving the trailer in case you have a seizure. You don’t put up much of an argument so Wednesday is spent anxiously walking around the trailer. The headache won’t go away but you ignore it and you’re productive enough to practice your Old Alternian and partially finish some overdue homework.

When you sleep you have brief flashes of water and blood; muffled voices seeping from the darkness, from a past your mind doesn’t want you to see. Then there’s nothingness and a smothering repose that you happily welcome.

You wake up at a regular time on Thursday. Your headache’s dulled but your skull still feels floating and far-off. You seem to be doing better so you return to school. (You don’t want your absence to become _too_ spotty.) Everyone’s tense during History but you’re fine. No screaming and no pain on your left side. You go home that night and choke down some food. You even finish your homework and take your pill at ten.

This time you do dream. It’s a feeble dream lacking the drama or scenery of the previous. You’re sitting. Not swimming, not falling, not drowning; just sitting on the mountain of wetness and bones that plagued you before. You are lord over it and you look into the darkened sky. Polychromatic lightning flickers and strains against the black.

Around you the air pressure mounts and threatens to become claustrophobic. You can feel—no, _see_ —your grandfather’s memories. They’re plastered around you like a curved movie screen.

You see the sand wastes. You hear the mating calls of the seashore crab lusii. You taste the raw insects of the desert. You smell the sea salt in Condie’s hair. You feel the sweet warm roughness of Simham’s skin. You laugh at the jokes of your moirail. You speak to your followers. You cherish your lovers. You adore your friends. You curse your enemies. You scream at death. You welcome oblivion.

Then the memories leave you; leaking like water through a sieve. They hemorrhage and evaporate, rejoining the brightening darkness high above you.

There’s a single memory left now. It’s not one you recognize from your visions of Alternia or the early days of New Earth. Its a crowd of trolls all in black moving through a city though the neon lights are blurry and the signs illegible.

A large troll is moving amongst them. He pauses in the crowd and then looks over his shoulder. His bright red eyes pierce your soul, looking through you.

 

 

And then the memory is gone. Everything is gone.

You wake up sans terror or a headache. Something slipped from you in the night but you’re not frightened. Your mind isn’t fogged and there’s no threat of your heat cycle steering you to bad decisions or your grandfather’s memories doing the same. You have a new influx of feelings and a chilled understanding of all things related to Karkat Vantas.

Clearheaded, you go the kitchen and make breakfast. Today is just another day and you have no fears about what will happen.


End file.
